England Diaries
by xEmmie-kinZx
Summary: Arthur shares his inner most thoughts, feelings, past events and troubles. USAxUK/FrancexUK/UKxCanada/PrussiaxUK
1. God blew and they were scattered

**Yes, yet _another_ story! This one centered around the life and crimes of none other than Arthur Kirkland!**

**Please note, this story contains both fact an fiction**

**I've tried my best to be as historically accurate as I can, but, sadly I will fail at points OTL**

**Don't be afraid to correct me of I have, and I will change things (as long as such fact means I have to alter half the story)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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Hello. My name is Arthur Kirland. I am 23 years old and I represent Great Britain and Northern Ireland when dealing with National afairs. I have lived a long and very eventful life. Some for good, some for bad, like anybody. But, my life has been one of great difference to most normal people. And yes, i'm aware many will walk up to you and profess their life to be more amazing and unique to anyone else, so I will understand if you do not believe me. At least not yet. I am now going to spend some time to tell you about my life. And no, I wont be starting with that generic bullshit like 'I was born on blah blah and grew up with my parents in so-and-so, etc'. In fact, i'm not even going to start from the begining. Partly because I forget much of my young life, but also because I am ashamed of parts of it. So, I will be starting from where I am most comfortable. Make sure you make yourself at home, relax and possibly enjoy the tale of how this now great Nation grew...

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July 30th 1588

The day of celebration. The day of good will and joy throughout the Nation. Why? Because just 24 previous, the British Navy had succesfully beaten the 'Invincible Spanish Armada'. So naturally, the whole of the country was beaming with pride. That was, everybody but one. Sir Arthur Kirkland. Whilst the rest of his merry crew were littering the streets, dancing, drinking and being generally noisey, he was sat on a lone bar stool in a now empty tavern. Empty since its previous content was now all outside. The man let out a sharp sigh, rubbing his temples in annoyance at the amount of volume there was. He was all for celebrating a gracious victory and all, but honestly, half the reason they won was because of natural causes. Not them. His emereld eyes glanced back when he heard the doors fly open, only helping in making the racket from outside highten. The perpertrater of this villonous - in Arthur's oppinion - act was none other than his fellow sea-man, William Campbell. The very man who had fought besides him in yesterdays events. But, that did not mean he wasnt going to be scolded for Arthur's headache worse.

''Arty! Why ain't yah outside w'it rest of 'em?''

His ridiculous Yorkshire accent only sounded worse due to his current intoxication. Honestly, was the world out to get him? Arthur wondered as he slumped forwards over the bar. Watching out of the corner of his eye with minimal interest as the older man sat besides him, his grin never foltering once.

''How many times have I told you William, do not address me by that degrading name.''

''And how times h've I told ye to tek that stick from art' yur arse! Los'n up, will yah?''

Most many from down south would have needed a translater at hand to understand a single word from that sentence, but Arthur was used to it. Used to those almost foreign words spilling from both drunk and sober lips. The blonde near slammed his head on the wooden bar he was leant against. And he would have suceeded in bashing his head, had his folded arms softened his blow. An action he was both gracious and unthankful for at the same time. He sat there for what seemed like forever listening to his comrade rant on about useless information that Arthur was not the slightest bit interested in hearing. That was untill another sailor came in to drag him outside once more. That was the first time in years Arthur actually thanked God for anything.

The bartender walked over, placing him another glass of rum besides his arm. His old, wrinkled face twisting into a worried smile.

''Cheer up lad, this ones on the house.''

Arthur thanked him silently, before going back into the half laying position he was previously in. Face burried in his crossed arm, thinking up possible ways of spending the rest of the still young night. He could either leave and go home, maybe read a book and have an early night. Or, he could take the drink, and many more, go outside and join his friends in celebrating their winning against the Spanish. Though it shocked him slightly, he chose the latter. Not because he wanted to, but because if he didnt he would never hear the end of it. So, he sat up, tried to ignore all rational thoughts and downed his drink in one go before ordering another. And another. And another, untill he was near enough wasted. Then he threw the money he owed onto the bar and proceeded outside to join in on the action.

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The sun beamed with absolutely no sympathy as Arthur woke up, grumbling something about his head. He forced himself up into the sitting position, a little too quickly as he instantly felt his headache grow worse. Not to mention his arse hurt. He assumed maybed he'd fallen at some point in the night, as he appeared to ache else-were too. Just great. Maybe he would have been better off just retreating home last night instread. He could have just brushed off any comments he got about leaving, but no, he had to be difficult. His eyes blinked open and he brought his hand up to sheild them from the suns harsh rays. Once he adjusted to the new light, he looked down at himself. He was stark naked besides his socks. Which Arthur thought was odd, but decided it was simply because he was probably too drunk to focus on readying himself for bed properly, and just stripped off. That was of course, untill he heard a noise from besides him. His face twisted in horror. How had he noticed sooner that there was another body in bed with him? More to the point... Who was it? He took a long, sharp intake of breath before wipping the blanket back in one movement. Something he almost wished he hadnt done. There before him, as naked as himself, lay a soundly sleeping Francis.

/Oh, shit!/

The Brit shifted back as far as he could, leaning on his headrest, knees pulled up to his chest. He fought desperately to try and remember exactly what had happened last night after he left the bar. But his head was simply not cooperationg the way he hoped.

''Oh, so you're awake... Mon cher?''

Arthur's head wipped around to look at the man currently invading his bed. Another action he wasnt proud of. As his previously forgotten headache came thumping back with avengeance. The smug look on the French man's face was enough to make Arthur want to punch it repeatedly. Sadly though, he was currently in too much pain and shock to do much.

''Fr-ancis... Why are y-ou...''

''In your bed? My darling, do you remember nothing of last night?''

For some reason, the way he said those words made Arthur's stomach knot painfully. He didn't remember anything, and he was starting to think maybe he didn't want to find out either. The older man chuckled at the look of pure distress on his friends face. It was too cute, he thought. Francis sat up, seemingly without any effort at all. Did he not have a hangover at all? Or was he so used to them that they simply didn't bother him anymore? Either way, this only made Arthur more angry.

''Well, you obviously don't remember, so about I enlighten you?''

His smirked only hightened as the other dirty-blonde seemed to flinch a little.

''In short. You came out of the bar, pissed off your head. Then you went with a few others from your ship to drink yet more. Thats when I found you, near passed out on the floor, holding a glass of spilled gin. I brought you here and after you threw up a couple times, you seemed to regain more composure...''

When Francis paused, as in trying to remember the events himself, Arthur wasn't sure is he should be releaved, or worried. The way the blondes smirk spread into a devilishly evil grin made Arthur shiver, and decide it was the latter. He should be worried, very worried.

''Thats when it got good. You were still a little tipsy, so I couldn't tell if you meant what you said or not, but I am not the kind of man to pass up on what you were offering.''

/Oh, fuck!/

The Brit wanted so badly to ask what he had said to him, even though he knew Francis was going to tell him anyway. But his words just caught in his mouth, and all he could manage was a few muffled, incoherent sounds. Oh dignity, how thou has forsaken me!

''You were clinging to my shirt, beging me to fuck you. And oh my dear. I did. I gave it you nice and hard, on the couch, in the kitchen, on the stairs... And right here.''

Well that explained why his arse hurt, if nothing else. But right now, that wasn't Arthur's primary concern. His eyes were now painfully wide, staring straight at the man before him. And the worst part was; he wasn't joking. He had known Francis long enough to be able to tell when he was lying. Sadly, this was not one of those times. He felt his headache grow more painful, not that it mattered right now. Right now all he wanted was to search every gesture the other blonde had made for signs that he wasnt being honest. But, there were none. Not a single one. Said man laughed, pulling himself closer to the now shivering Arthur, moving to place a soft kiss on his cheek, which resulted in Arthur jumping so much he fell off the end of the bed.

''Ow! For fucks sake! Why does God hate me so!''

Francis could only laugh as Arthur's naked form writhed in pain, trying his best to stand whilst tangled up in the blanket that had come crashing down with him. Once back on his feet, the dirty-blonde man pulled the blanket around his waist, pointing an accusing finger at his unwanted guest.

''You! You son of a bitch! How could you do that to me when I wan't in a proper state of mind! You... You bloody wanker!''

This only helped in making his headache worse, and in maker Francis more amused. Francis smirked, getting up to fetch his clothes before returning to get dressed. His current state had caused several maids to blush and freeze at the sight as he did so. Once he was fully clothed once again, he placed another chaste kiss on the Brit's cheek before leaving quickly, as if trying to ascape him. Normally Arthur would have chased after him, or even killed him before he had chance to move, but he was in too much pain to do little more than sit on his bead and spew out threats and curses. Francis was going to pay! When his head and arse stopped aching, anyway.

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**Translations:**

**''Arty! Why ain't yah outside w'it rest of 'em?'' = Arthur! Why aren't you outside with the rest of them?**

**''And how times h've I told ye to tek that stick from art' yur arse! Los'n up, will yah?'' - ''And how many times have I told you to take that stick from out of your arse! Losen up, will you?**

**We Yorkshire speak funny, ne?**


	2. The land of the Free

**Yes, England had claimed part of America, and soon he would claim much more!**

**And I know that Arthur probably got his hands Alfred at a younger age, but since America is actually a lot older than people make it out to be, I decided he'd be about 4 (in human years)**

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October 5th 1607

Arthur wasn't proud of his life to this date. He had made failure after failure, and was currently at risk of losing his Knight-hood. But, it seemed fate was on his side. He had just heard that British settlers had finally made a succesful board. Part of the new country of 'America' was now his. Well, England's. It had taken some time, and much argument, but they now had their own colony there. One that Arthur was going to see to it that it grew and grew, till the entire country was under British control. That should please the Monarchy some-what. He smirked a little, thinking in his mind just how much the country would adore him should he make the British Empire expand yet further. With that thought still in mind, he hastily got ready for bed, eagerly awaiting setting sail the next morning for the new world.

-----One Week Later-----

The fresh scent of sea air was something no sailor ever grew tired of. The feel of the wind blowing through your hair as the waves crashed up against the ship. Yes, this was truly heaven on earth. At least Arthur thought so. He was never more at home than he was when he was out at sea. He watched as the land in the distance grew ever closer, and it wasn't long till they made port at Virginia Colony. His first steps on this new soil was something he knew he would remember. A sense of pride washed over him, as he made his way further in-land. He gave the ship a quick wave as it left for England. Now it was time for him to explore the land a little. It was vast and great. A place to start fresh. He hummed slightly, a tune that he made up on the spot. It was then that a line hit him:

_''The land of the free, and the home of the brave.''_

He smiled to himself. That was what this new country would be one day.

As the day went on, it wasnt long till he found himself farther into the wood-like terrain than he would have liked to be, and it was clear to anyone: He was lost.

''Oh grea- Ow!''

He grumbled as tripped over a tree trunk. Almost every curse word under the sun soon escaped his mouth before he finally got back to his feet. He brushed himself off, fixing his clothes and hair. And thats when he saw him. A young blonde boy hiding behind a tree, his body trembling. Arthur blinked a little, slowly walking towards the child in curiosity, whom in turn stepped back, clearly afraid. His big blue eyes glistened from un-shed tears. The Brit forced a smile, that must have looked more genuine than he planned since the boy stopped moving.

''Hey there, this isn't the kind of place little children should be playing in. Now, tell me, what is your name son?''

''A-merica...''

Arthur tilted his head in confusion. That didn't sound like an accent he'd heard before. Kneeling down on one knee, he held out his hand as a sign of friendship.

''Come here... I won't hurt you.''

It took a while, but eventually the child walked closer. His height and features told Arthur that he was roughly about 4 years old at most, but something about his mannerisms made him seem older. He picked the still shivering boy up into his arms and stood straight once again. His emerald green eyes scanning the area for anyone who might be looking for a lost child.

''Hey... where are your parents?''

''Huh..?''

''You know, the people who take care of you? Look after you?''

Although, that being said, they weren't doing a very good job of it at the moment. It was 'America's' turn to look confused now. It was as though the concept of parents was something completely foreign to him. Surely even children of this age knew what they were. Right? Arthur really wasn't the maternal type, so he had absolutely no clue about how to talk to children.

''I don't have anyone like that... I've always been alone. People keep taking to their homes telling me they own me, but... I don't have a family...''

/So, he really is the same as me and Francis then... Huh-!/

His eyes began to tear up again, and Arthur was left with no idea of how to handle the situation should the boy start crying. He went with instinct and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead, watching in facination as those dazzling blue eyes stopped tearing and his mouth formed into a smile. Well, at least he wasnt upset anymore. Arthur carried him back to where his cabin was currently waiting for him. Thoughit took him quite some time to remember where it was. He was, after all, the King of losing things. That included losing his way, naturally. Even a man once so heartless couldn't leave a young boy out in the woods all alone. At least for tonight, he would stay with him. He looked down to notice the boy he was cradleing had, somewhere along the lines, fallen asleep. The Brit smiled. He was actually kind of cute. Arthur brushed some of his blonde hair from his face. Yes, definately cute. He smiled to himself as he entered the wooden house, making sure to lock the door behind him. Searching the small building for a decent place for the boy to sleep, he eventually settled on letting him share his bed. What harm could it do after all? The night was slowly setting upon them, and Arthur decided best to handle his current situation more in the morning. For now though, he would sleep.

-----5 Hours Later-----

Arthur found himself waking much earlier than he had hoped. And there was a very simple reason for that. The other young body that was occupying his bed was currently shaking almost violently in his lap, crying furiously about how there were ghosts in the room. Ghosts that wanted to hurt him. The Brit furrowed his brow, gently rocking the small form back and forth in his tight embrace. Honestly, there was a reason he didnt have kids, and this was it. They were so much hard work. After a few minutes, it seemed the child was slowly starting to calm down. He was no longer shivering so much, and his sobs had become less frequent. But even Arthur - who knew nothing of kids - knew it wasn't over.

''D-addy... I'm scared...''

Daddy?! When did Arthur agree to be the boys father? He certainly didn't remember agreeing to this. Though he thought it best not to argue that point right now. He'd deal with the task at hand first. Which was quite simply to get the boy to shut up and go back to sleep. And, make him feel better, he supposed.

''It's okay, theres nothing here. I promise you. I've seen ghosts before, and I know when they're around. And I guarantee there are none in this room, nor this building. Okay?''

Clearly it wasn't okay, because the younger boy just sniffled and pushed his face further into Arthur's night gown. An action said man wasn't best pleased about, but he held back his annoyance. No, he would not be known as the inpatient, heartless bastard who yelled at little children. So, he sighed and softly caressed the youth's back with his right hand, whilst his left played with his short blonde locks. It was then that Arthur had a realisation. If this boy was the living embodiment of America, like he was to England, then if he did take him under his wing and raise him as his son, then America would surely become England's property by default. It was perfect! Sure it meant the hard work of raising a child, but he would definately reap the benefits later in life. An all too appealing thought. He grinned to himself, holding the boy closer and whispering reasuring words into the boys ear till he - finally - fell asleep. Maybe having a son wasn't so bad after all.

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**Yes, those are some lyrics from _The Star Spangled Banner_**

**I just wanted to fit them in somewhere, kay?**

**Stay tuned for more soon :D**


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